Burn Me Right

Chapter 50

The diary of a broken girl

He banged the door open after 20 minutes, enraged that I wasn't downstairs as he had asked. His eyes moved between the dress and me. Pushing his hands into his pocket, he leaned on the door frame, and I resisted the urge to throw my book at him. "You are growing bold day after day, April," his voice was calm, but I knew a raging war was brewing inside him because if Liam Hart hates one thing, it is disobedience. I know it. I lived the consequences of it.

I have no answer. I have nothing to say to this man other than, "I don't want this," but he knows, right? He knows and still wants me to be his wife, which is no less than a death sentence to me. That seemed to have done it. In one giant stride, he was before me. He grabbed my throat and banged my back to the wall. "I don't remember giving you a choice," his eyes turned a shade darker, and I gulped. No matter how hard I try to resist him, he scares me. He is capable of doing a lot. He showed it to me repeatedly.

He pushed his hand into my shirt and grabbed it from underneath it, pulling it down and tearing it right into the middle. I gasped, trying to cover it. He twisted my hands behind my back, "You think you are doing something here, April? You think you are strong standing up to me?" he pushed his groin into mine. His pants covered his penis, but I could tell he was aroused. My pain is what gets him off. "This is nothing but stupidity. You know I can end lives, but you still try to antagonize me," he turned me around and banged my head on the windowsill.

"No matter what, you will be my wife. I will bind you legally to me. In death and for life," he unzipped his pants and pushed his dick onto my anal entrance ripping my panties.

"No, Liam," I gave in. I don't want to be fucked in the ass. It would be the end of me. Though he took most of my life and childhood, there are things that I still have for myself, parts of me untouched by him. I don't want him to ruin those and take them away. My heart and my mind will never give in to him. I know this.

"Will you listen to me? Or do you want me to fuck this ass? Because, April, I will marry you. Suppose you want to bleed while getting married to me. I would gladly bathe your body in blood. Yours or someone else's," he spat onto his palm and smeared it on my ass creak. I had two seconds, two seconds, before he ripped me apart. I always had to make these decisions in split seconds before he hurt me.

"I will do it," that stopped him. I couldn't see him, but I could tell he was grinning in victory. "I hope when you have to answer to god, tell him how you trapped a helpless girl in this marriage, and God, I hope, he skins your soul alive." I retaliated. All I can do is yell at him. "I hope you can burn in hell for eternity, and I hope I will be the one to strike that match."

I felt him moving his dick away. He pulled me up. He twirled me around, smirking. "If you strike the match, I will be the water to douse that fire," he pecked my cheek as if my words did not affect him. "I will suck every single drop of your blood if I have to," he kissed my pulse. "And tonight, I will stake my claim." He sucked the skin biting, bruising it.

"I hope to see you on your feet, begging for forgiveness," this made him stop. Lacing his fingers through my hair, he yanked it making my eyes tear up.

"Does it make you excited? Me, taking things from you forcefully? Hmm?" He stroked my cheek. "If that's the case, we can always roleplay," his sick mind will never fail to gag my insides.

He grabbed the dress and put it on me. I look down at my feet, feeling defeated. There is no other way I can make it out of this marriage. Why delay the inevitable? Why let other people die because of my misery? What is the worst that could happen anyways? I will close my eyes and shut out the world.